


The Contest

by Rickey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Parody, Romance, Sexual Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickey/pseuds/Rickey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendly little contest between friends. Are you master of your wand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Contest

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a ~~rip off of~~ written in homage to a fairly infamous Seinfeld episode of the same name. Still, the fic can stand on its own if you've never seen the episode. aunt_agatha, I truly hope you enjoy this. I tried to hit a whole bunch of your kink buttons. Original [Bestmate_xmas posting](http://bestmates-xmas.livejournal.com/52136.html).
> 
> Effusive thanks to the lovely geoviki (who joked that no one asks her to beta -ha!) and thrihyrne (who often betas for me and is very much in my thoughts these days) for beta-ing for me and the Aussie-Brit picker quizzical who has many a time done a last minute final read thru for me. I love Betas! You guys truly make my fics so polished and I don't know what I'd do without you.

**Friday 5:07 PM**

Ron put down Eeragol's Encyclopedia of Property Curses and Hexes. The reading was so dry that it made his eyes water. He had left his sparse every-inch-of-it-grey office early in favor of trying to get his research done at home in front of a warm fire. He had even changed into his favorite Chudley Cannons sweatpants with the perfectly stretched elastic in the waist rather than his stiffly pressed Ministry-issued robes. Unfortunately, it was proving just as difficult to concentrate on the comfortable living room sofa as it was at his desk. Maybe he could sweet talk Hermione into doing the research. Sure, she knew all his tricks, but often she'd do the reading for him anyway. That girl was always on a never-ending quest for knowledge, or some such rot.

Ron needed to relax. Ron looked up at the mahogany grandfather clock on the wall. With its ornate Griffin carvings, it was one of the few remaining items that signaled that the house could have ever belonged to the Black family. Harry had long since redecorated Number 12 Grimmauld Place into a cozy home with warm reds and deep blues, and filled with all sorts of Muggle contraptions that Ron loved to play with. Hermione helped with the decor, naturally.

The large gold pendulum swung back and forth, reminding him of every second he wasn't getting his work done. Clearly, he needed a break. What he needed was a good wank.

On Fridays, Harry always arrived home after six. Fifty-three minutes was more than ample time to get the job done. He wouldn't even be remotely cutting it close, and the change of scenery from his bedroom usually moved things along quite quickly. His all-time record was six minutes and fourteen seconds. Ron Summoned lube from his bedroom, unzipped his trousers, and pulled out his prick.

As he gently played with it, his erection steadily grew in the palm of his hand. After a few minutes of toying around, he poured some lube on his hand and got down to more serious business. He picked up the pace and stroked over the head with his thumb. His pulse quickened and his toes tingled. He gripped tighter and pulled harder. This never got old.

He closed his eyes and imagined Harry – his bright green eyes staring at him, the way heat radiated from his body like a warm fire, his strong arms wrapping around him, his powerful hand covering his and pulling him off together, the sound of his voice deep and throaty—

"Ron! Oh my God! What—?"

That wasn't right. That was far too high and shrieky. Ron opened his eyes and Harry was staring, frozen in utter shock. Ron had been so completely in the moment that he hadn't heard the Floo. _Fuck!_

"What are you doing?" Harry finally asked after time began to start up again.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Ron was too confunded to move.

"You know what I mean. Here. In the living room. For fuck's sake put your… it… put it away." Harry gestured wildly at Ron's crotch.

This was definitely not a fantasy, yet Ron was still excited. What he truly wanted was to pull Harry on top of him and snog him senseless. He'd wanted nothing more for over a year, but hadn't dared to do anything about it. Ron took a deep breath and thought of his mother yelling at him to de-gnome the garden, and mercifully his erection began to fade. As he tucked himself back in, he realised that Harry was still staring. He hadn't turned away. That had to be some sort of good sign, wasn't it?

"I can't believe you're wanking in the middle of the living room. In front of the fireplace. Where anyone could come home at any time."

Ron looked up at the clock. "I had twenty-seven more minutes. Not my fault you're early."

"What?"

"You're home early."

"I finished the Saltado report and decided to knock off a few minutes early. What are _you_ doing home?"

"I came home to read."

"That wasn't reading."

"I was taking a break. It's no big deal."

"Yes, it is." Harry looked rather upset.

"Everyone does it."

"Not in the living room… in a house they share with three other people."

"I have. Haven't you?"

"No!"

"I bet Neville has."

There was the loud crack of Apparition.

"I do not want to think about what Neville has or has not done."

"What haven't I done?" Neville asked, holding two large bags of take away.

"Never mind," Harry said with a deep scowl.

"What'd you get?" Ron asked. "I thought it was Hermione's night."

"Indian. No. Mine."

Ron stood and went to help Neville with one of the bags. "Brilliant. Extra naan?"

"Would you at least wash your hands first!" Harry blurted out.

"What's going on?" Neville inquired.

"Nothing," Harry replied.

"Harry's just out of sorts because he came home early and caught me. Hey, you're early too. What is it with everyone tonight?"

"Caught you what?" Neville asked.

" _Caught me-_ Caught me."

"Ah. In that case, do go wash your hands."

"I didn't get to finish," Ron protested.

"I really didn't need that level of detail," said Neville, and he headed to the kitchen.

Harry gave Ron an exasperated look and followed.

In the loo, Ron was tempted to finish what he had started, but he kept picturing Harry's shocked face and lost interest. Harry was not gay. Harry was not interested. Harry was never going to be his, and Ron really needed to get over it and move on.

 

 **Friday 6:18 PM**

Ron scooped the butter chicken onto his plate and tried to ignore the heat of Harry's stare without success. "What?"

Harry dropped his fork to the table. "I'm sorry, I still can't imagine what possessed you to… _you know_ … in the living room."

"Beat the bishop?" Neville added with a smile.

"You shouldn't talk either," Harry admonished, "He-Who-Never-Casts-A-Silencing-Charm."

Neville shrugged his shoulders. "I'm pants at them."

"No pants involved," joked Ron.

"Knock it off," said Harry, looking quite annoyed.

"Everyone knocks it off," Ron said, unable to resist. "Even you."

"We're not talking about me!"

"What about you?" Hermione asked as she entered the kitchen. "Ooh, chicken tikka. Good choice."

Neville handed Hermione a plate and the container of rice. "Harry caught Ron in the living room engaged in self indulgence."

"Huh?"

"You know," said Neville.

"Know what?" Hermione looked uncharacteristically lost.

Neville gave a sly smile, and then replied, "Polishing his broomstick… draining the dragon…"

"Milking the lizard," added Ron.

"Boys," Hermione said with an exaggerated eye roll. "No self control."

"Not like we don't hear your wand vibrating at one in the morning," Ron said.

"You do not!"

"Can we all _please_ stop talking about this?" Harry begged.

"Spanking the monkey?" Ron teased.

"Playing the skin flute?" Neville joined in.

"Five knuckle shuffle?" Hermione said.

"So no one finds it inappropriate that Ron… whipped out his one-eyed trouser snake in the middle of the living room?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"No one was home!" Ron yelled in defense. "And for the record, I have plenty of self control."

"Do not," said Harry.

"Sorry, Ron," Hermione said with the tone she reserved for explaining the uprising of Elfric the Eager. "Having dated you for over a year, I can safely state that you have no self control."

"Oi! That's off the pitch." Although Ron knew she was speaking the truth, he was determined to show that he had grown in the past two years since their more-than-amicable split. Ron turned to Harry and in his most serious voice said, "Twenty Galleons says that I can hold out longer than you."

"Than me what?" Harry asked.

"You know… without… doing _that_."

"You're joking." Harry's mouth hung slightly open in shock, and Ron couldn't help staring at it.

Immediately, Ron realised that perhaps his suggestion was a mistake, but still he pressed on. "I'm dead serious. Twenty Galleons says I have more self-control than you. Got the stones for it?"

Harry flushed bright red, but nodded and said, "You're on."

"Count me in," said Neville.

"You," laughed Ron. "You'll be out before the dishes are done."

"Ha. Ha. I'll have you know that I am and always have been master of my wand."

"Wait," said Harry. "What are we talking about? Just… _that_ , or all — _you know_ —everything?"

"It's got to be a level playing field," said Ron. "No such activities of any kind. Besides, it's not like any of us are involved with anyone right now." Ron pushed down the feelings of regret at not having had more than a one-off here and there over the past few years.

"I want in, too," said Hermione.

"No. No. It's not the same for girls," answered Ron.

"Why? I do _that_ just as much as the lot of you."

"Yes, but you don't _have_ to," said Neville.

"Sure I do." Hermione crossed her arms and made her indignant face – the one when someone or something was being unjustly discriminated against. Ron called it the SPEW face, but only to Harry. Ron liked his bollocks far too much to ever say it in front of Hermione.

"Fine," said Ron, "but you have to give us 2-1 odds."

"Forty Galleons?" Hermione narrowed her eyes as she contemplated the bet. "Okay."

"Okay, you're in for 40 Galleons. That's 100 Galleons. Winner takes all," Ron said, quite happy with the possible small fortune to be made in addition to the bragging rights.

"Please tell me we're not really doing this," Harry groaned.

"Of course we are," said Neville. "But we need to make sure we're all starting in the same state of…"

"Oh. You're quite right," said Hermione. "Tonight we can all… _you know_ …"

"Tease the Kneazle?" said Neville with a wicked grin.

"Good one." Ron clapped Neville on the back as he ignored the weight of Hermione's stare. "All right. Here are the rules. Tonight we can have one last… bit of private time with ourselves. Then that's it. The castle gates are closed. No self-indulgence and no… related activities with others of any kind. And no magic either. No impotence spells. No numbing charms."

"Cold showers it is," said Neville.

"How will we know if…?" Hermione asked.

Ron smiled and looked at each one of his friends in turn. "I think we're all close enough that the honor system should suffice."

"I could always—" Hermione started but Ron cut her off.

"No thanks. I think I'd rather not wake up in the morning with 'wanker' etched on my forehead."

Everyone chuckled and Hermione blushed.

"I trust you all," Ron said. "Now swear on your wands."

Neville sniggered.

"You know what I mean," said Ron.

All four of them pulled out their wands and touched the tips in the center of the table.

"Veritas vos liberabit," said Hermione. The three men looked at her crossly. "It's just a saying. No spell, I promise."

"Honor system," said Ron.

 

 **Friday 11:59 PM**

Ron, Harry, Neville, and Hermione were asleep, deep and sated, in their beds at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

 

 **Saturday 10:22 PM (Day 1)**

"Ready for another?" Seamus asked, holding up the empty pitcher.

"Absolutely," Ron answered. Sleep would come much easier tonight if he had a few more drinks under his belt. He watched Seamus head to the bar, and out of the corner of his eye he caught Harry licking foam off his upper lip. Yes, more alcohol was definitely in order.

"Hey, isn't that Susan Bones?" Dean asked. "I thought she was in Texas."

"Sedona. It's in Arizona," Hermione corrected. "There's a very substantial wizarding community there. Luna mentioned the other day that Susan came back about a week or so ago."

Ron looked over at the group of witches in the corner. He recognised Hannah Abbott, but not the others. Susan looked extremely fit and sported a golden tan. Her brown hair fell on her shoulders, and lots of blonde streaks made it look lighter than he had remembered. A year in America had seemed to agree with her, not to mention the tight Muggle denims and low cut black t-shirt. Hell, Ron might be gay, but he wasn't dead.

And from the depths of Susan's proudly displayed cleavage, an idea was born. Ron turned to Neville. "Weren't you and Susan…?"

"Nah." Neville blushed. "I mean we were friends, but we never really… and then she was leaving."

"You should go talk to her."

"I don't know. I didn’t keep in touch."

Seeing Neville's attention locked on Susan, Ron got the inkling that winning the contest might not be that difficult after all. They hadn't made any rules about not encouraging each other to find a partner. "I heard she fancied you. Go talk to her."

"Really? All right. I will." Neville finished the remaining few sips of his pint and excused himself just as Seamus returned with a fresh pitcher.

"You're evil. Surely you know this," Harry said, just a little too close in Ron's personal space for comfort.

"I'm merely trying to help out one of my closest friends." Ron watched Neville receive a full body hug with accompanying kiss on the cheek from Susan.

"She seems awfully happy to see him," Harry said. "I'd say you're helping his 20 Galleons into the pot."

"A pot that I'm going to win," said Hermione with the utmost confidence. "If you'll excuse me, I'm off to the loo. Oh bugger, there's a line."

Ron watched Hermione walk towards the back of the pub and noticed that Neville was right behind her on his way to the 'gents'.

By the time Hermione had returned and Seamus had refilled her glass, Neville plopped down a small bag onto the center of the table.

"I'm out."

"No way," said Harry. "Already?"

"Tell me you did not just… in the loo?" asked Hermione.

"Yes and yes," Neville said, looking like he had just aced his NEWTs. "I'm taking Susan home."

"Ah. Preemptive measures," said Ron.

"What on earth are you talking about?" asked Dean. "You keep talking about a bet?"

Neville's face turned bright red. He picked up his cloak from the back of his chair. "Goodnight all." With one last wave, he joined Susan by the front door of the pub.

"We're having a friendly little wager," explained Ron.

"What kind of wager?" asked Seamus.

"Well, my flat-mates and I have a little bet to see who can remain master of their wand the longest. Neville didn't last a day." Ron smiled and wondered how long it would take Seamus and Dean to put it all together.

It only took a few seconds for Dean to reply, "That's really twisted."

"And stupid," added Seamus. "At least Neville has his priorities straight."

"There's 100 Galleons in the pot," said Hermione.

"You too!" Dean exclaimed, and Seamus joined him in staring incredulously at Hermione.

"Why not? Besides, I am queen of the castle."

"She gave us 2-1 odds," said Harry.

Dean looked from Ron to Harry and then to Hermione. "I think there's something very wrong with all of you. Must be the house."

 

 **Sunday 1:28 AM (Day 2)**

Ron, Harry, and Hermione were passed out drunk in their beds at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Neville slept soundly, wrapped around Susan in her bed.

 

 **Wednesday 5:13 PM (Day 5)**

Ron arrived home from work to find Harry boiling pasta in the kitchen. "I thought it was Neville's night?"

"We traded. He's at Susan's."

"Hmm. I think our whole chore system is about to go in the bin."

"But it's good for Neville. He hasn't dated anyone in a long while."

"Neither have you." Ron mentally cursed himself the moment it left his mouth.

"It's fine, really. I like having no complications." Harry poured the linguine into a colander in the sink. The steam fogged up his glasses.

Ron couldn't help himself. He reached out and plucked Harry's glasses from his nose, wiped them with the hem of his shirt, and returned them to Harry's face.

With a sheepish smile Harry said, "Um. Thanks."

"No problem." Ron shifted and cleared his throat. "Dinner looks good."

"Right. Thanks," said Harry, but Ron was left wondering if there was something that Harry wasn't saying.

 

 **Wednesday 11:25 PM (Day 5)**

Restless, Ron tossed and turned in his bed at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Thoughts of Harry, flushed and naked, played over and over in his mind. He rolled out of bed and quietly made his way past Harry's door and to the loo. Harry and Hermione were asleep and did not awaken from the sounds of Ron taking a cold shower. Neville slept soundly, wrapped around Susan in her bed.

 

 **Friday 10:50 PM (Day 7)**

Earlier that evening, Neville had cooked dinner, an actual, real, dinner, consisting of roast chicken, potatoes, and sautéed onions and bell peppers. The obvious explanation was that Susan had joined them, which was fine with Ron if it meant a good home-cooked meal that he didn't have to go to the Burrow to eat. Ron loved his mother, truly, but if she tried to set him up with one more gay son of a witch from her sewing circle or a friend of Dad's at the Ministry, he was never going back. It didn't matter how good her meat pies were.

The five friends talked and joked over their third bottle of chardonnay, although the way Susan was wedged up against Neville clearly demonstrated that they were more than friends. Susan shared some fairly frightening stories about American Muggles (they were even more gullible than British Muggles, apparently), although spending a week or two in the desert sounded like a good idea for a holiday. Hermione was enraptured with Susan's description of the Vortex Institute, and it appeared that perhaps Harry and Ron were in danger of losing _her_ to America for a year.

When the last bottle of wine was emptied, they all yawned and stretched, making it clear that it was time for bed. Well, everyone except Hermione, who had fallen asleep on the sofa with her hair in a wild mess that covered her face. Ron wondered how she could breathe.

"I can't believe we're only one week in," Harry said casually as they headed to towards the staircase.

"One week in on what?" Susan asked.

Neville shot Harry a panicked look. Harry immediately froze. Whether it was the wine or Harry's general obliviousness that made him bring up the contest, Ron would never know, but the conversation took a quick downturn.

"Oh, nothing," said Neville, as he tried to usher Susan up the stairs.

"Some flat-mate thing? Come on. Tell me. I want to know."

Ron was not the fastest broom on the pitch, but he could see that no good could come of this conversation. Sadly, Neville didn't know when to lie – probably the result of being raised an only child by his grandmother. Although, Ron had met Neville's Gran, and he probably wouldn't lie to her either.

"Just this silly contest," said Neville.

"What kind of contest?"

"Well, we bet twenty Galleons who could holdoutwithoutsexofanykind the longest."

"What?" Susan suddenly sobered up out of her late-at-night-four-glasses-of-wine haze.

"Neville was the first out," Harry said, as if that information would be helpful. Ron stepped on his foot. "Ow."

"My, it's getting late," said Ron, and tried to make a run for it.

"Wait just a second. You made a bet about abstinence?" Oh, she was not pleased. Poor Neville.

"It was really about wanking, but we had to keep it fair. Obviously, Neville chose you," Harry added. He was most definitely drunk. Normally, Harry could barely talk about the contest rules, but now he was running at the mouth like an overfed Jarvey.

"Oh, really," said Susan.

"Of course," added Harry.

"So I'm your consolation prize?" she asked Neville.

"No. No. I… " Neville glared at Harry.

"Come on, Harry, time for bed. Let's give these two some privacy." Ron pulled Harry's arm around his shoulder and toted him up the steps. Neville was either going to have some great make-up sex or be extremely angry in the morning. Ron hoped for the former, because as it was, he, Harry, and Hermione were all starting to get a bit grumpy, and adding Neville to the list might bring back all the Dark Magic that they had worked months to suppress. On the other hand, just what kind of make-up sex could you have after dating for only a week? Ron wondered if Susan was better at Silencing Charms than Neville.

 

 **Saturday 12:07 AM (Day 8)**

Ron covered his head with his pillow and tried not to listen to Neville and Susan having make-up sex. Apparently, Susan was a screamer. Hermione slept soundly, passed out on the couch. Harry slept soundly, passed out on top of his coverlet. There was no way in hell Ron was going to undress him and tuck him in.

 

 **Thursday 6:02 PM (Day 13)**

"It was your turn!" Hermione yelled at him like his Mum telling him to sweep the fireplace.

"It was Neville's," Ron whinged.

"You switched!"

Just then, Harry walked into the kitchen. "What's the problem? I could hear you both before I was even out of the Floo." His hair had a bit of ash in it, and Ron had to resist the urge to brush it away.

"It was Ron's turn for dinner."

"Was not."

"I've had a rough enough day. I didn't need to come home to this."

Harry definitely looked weary. Ron acquiesced. "I'll go pick up a pizza."

"I'll make a salad," offered Hermione as she gently patted Harry on the shoulder. Yes, they both knew when Harry needed a little extra care.

"Thank you," Harry said.

 

 **Monday 7:08 AM (Day 17)**

Ron woke up sporting morning wood that could have speared an armadillo. With an involuntary groan, he rolled (quite carefully) off the bed and padded to the loo. He didn't even bother with the hot tap.

Hermione and Harry were already having morning tea and toast by the time Ron made it to the kitchen. As usual, Harry's toast was dripping with excess orange marmalade.

"How are we doing this morning?" Ron asked with a sinister smile.

"I'm still master of my wand, if that's what you're asking," answered Harry, although he didn't look too happy about it.

"And what about you, Ms. Granger?" Ron poured himself a cup of tea and took the seat next to her.

"I'm a picture of purity." Hermione stood. "Now, as much as I'd like to stay and chat about how I'm going to take your money, I need to get to work."

After she had gone, Harry said, "She's going to win, you know."

"Relax, mate. I have the utmost confidence that our female friend will not make it past this weekend."

"What makes you so sure?"

Ron pointed to _The Daily Prophet_ sitting on the table, propped open to the sports section.

"What?"

"Look."

Bulgaria was traveling to Hogwarts to play England in a Pre-World Cup Quidditch exhibition. A photo of Viktor Krum catching the Golden Snitch at his last match against Sweden and pumping his fist in victory was splayed across the page.

"Oh." Harry still didn't seem to get it. "Why—?"

"I think you should send an owl to your old pal Viktor. Ask if he'll send us three tickets to the match and suggest that we get together after for a drink or two to catch up. And don't forget to mention that Hermione is looking forward to seeing him again."

"This is why you always beat me in chess."

"It is indeed."

 

 **Saturday 2:14PM (Day 22)**

"Get a move on, we're going to be late!" Ron yelled as he pounded on the door to the loo.

"I'm coming. Keep your pants on." Harry yelled through the door. More likely the problem was that he was not coming, but stepping out of his second cold shower of the day. Ron was up to two or three per day as well. It didn't help that he kept catching glimpses of Harry traipsing through the hall in nothing but a threadbare towel.

"Okay, I'm ready." Harry emerged dressed, but his hair was still wet, and Ron could smell the honey shampoo that he used.

If they didn't Apparate to Hogsmeade immediately, Ron was going to need another cold shower. Ron closed his eyes for a moment and imagined Aragog chasing him through the Dark Forest. A scared willy was a behaved willy.

"Hermione is meeting us there. Let's go."

 

 **Sunday 12:56PM (Day 23)**

Hermione's Apparation-of-shame came just as Harry and Ron were about to listen to the Cannons-Arrows match on the wireless. Her hair looked like two Nifflers mating, and her blouse was mis-buttoned so that it bunched up in the middle. Ron could easily see through the opening that her bra was probably still on Viktor's hotel room floor.

"Shut it," she said, then stomped past them.

They laughed hysterically and only stopped when she reappeared and dropped a cloth pouch, obviously containing 40 Galleons, on the coffee table in front of them.

"Best bet I ever lost," she said, and headed up to her room.

Ron picked up the pouch and upon further examination, realised that it was a pair of her knickers tied off with a ribbon. "The Queen is dead, but she's still trying to rub our noses in it."

"Very Hermione."

"Yes, very Hermione. So," Ron said.

"So."

"And then there were two. Are you master of your wand?"

"I'm the Chief Warlock, Order of Merlin, first class!" Harry half-laughed as he said it.

The announcer shouted over the wireless, "And the Quaffle is released!"

 _Thank Merlin_ , thought Ron, desperate to think about something for the next few hours other than sex, or his neglected penis, or Harry, or Harry's neglected penis.

However, Ron's sex-starved brain had other ideas. As Ron listened to the play-by-play, he kept picturing fit Quidditch arses in tight uniforms. He didn't even have to use much imagination. There had been a trove of fine arses flying right above him during the Bulgaria-England match the previous day. Some days it was difficult to be gay. Perhaps Harry had the edge after all.

 

 **Sunday 10:42PM (Day 23)**

Ron and Harry, hair still wet from cold showers, lay awake in their own beds. Neville slept soundly, wrapped around Susan in her bed. Hermione slept soundly in her bed. On her side table sat a bouquet of roses from Viktor.

 

 **Tuesday 6:32 PM (Day 25)**

"Hey, Nev, pull up a chair," Ron said, and Summoned another plate from the cupboard. "My Mum sent us a roast."

"Smells fantastic." Neville took a seat and began filling his plate.

"It tastes fantastic, too," said Harry with a mouthful of potatoes.

"Haven't seen much of you lately," said Hermione.

"Things have been moving a tad quickly with Susan."

"How's it going?" Hermione poured a glass of pumpkin juice and handed it to Neville.

"Good. Really good. How are you doing? Has there been a winner in my absence?"

"Hermione's out," said Ron. "The Bulgarian Quidditch team was in Hogsmeade this past weekend."

"Viktor," Hermione said with a twinkle in her eye, indicating that Viktor had caught more than the Snitch.

"Ah, Viktor" said Neville. "For a moment there I thought he meant the entire… never mind. And you gents? Still master of your wands?"

"Master and commander," answered Harry.

"I am the Minister for Magic!"

"You are both insane," said Neville, and then tucked into a thick slice of roast beef. "Is there pudding, too?"

 

 **Friday 7:05 AM (Day 28)**

Harry threw a wet towel at Ron, who was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his tea, and not doing anything wrong in particular.

"What was that for?"

"Do you think just once, _just once_ , you could hang your wet towel on the hook instead of leaving it on the floor?"

Ron tossed the towel over the back of the chair next to him. "Don't have to be so touchy."

"You're such a fucking slob. I'm always picking up after you," snapped Harry. "Fuck. There's no tea left."

"Sorry, I took the last tea bag." Ron tried very hard not to think about the kind of teabagging he'd like to do with Harry. Harry was incredibly sexy when he was angry.

"Fuck!"

"Don't get pissed off at me. It was your turn to go shopping."

"I've been busy at work, which you would know if you bothered to keep up with what's going on in the office." Harry tossed the empty box at Ron's head.

"Oi, so now I'm a bad Auror."

"Auror Trainee."

"That's out of line."

"Fine, you're not bad, you're just lazy and messy, and there's no fucking tea!"

Neville and Hermione entered the kitchen to see what the shouting was about.

"Sounds like they're both still in the game," said Neville.

"Shut it!" said Harry.

"Hey, don't get shirty with me. It's not my fault."

"No, it's Harry's fault," said Ron.

"How is it my fault?"

"If you hadn't accused me of having no self-control…"

"You were the one bashing your Basilisk in the living room!"

"Boys!" snarled Hermione. "Get hold of yourselves. Harry, go to work and have a cup of tea there. Ron, pick up your towel and hang it where it belongs."

"How do you know it's mine?"

Hermione gave him the _look_ , the one worse than all her other looks put together. It was the one that meant he might wake up with the towel attached to his head with a Permanent Sticking Charm.

"Yes, Mum." Ron figured it was best not to argue.

 

 **Monday 9:16 PM (Day 31)**

The cold water pummeled Ron's back. He didn't know how he was going to last much longer. He was a healthy 21-year-old gay man in his sexual prime, and he should be having more sex than an Incubus. Perhaps concession was in order. He wasn't sleeping well, and was it really worth the gold? It was only a stupid dare that Harry expected him to lose anyway.

After a quick towel off, he opened the door of the bathroom to find Harry sitting on the floor. Only a thin towel wrapped around his waist to barely cover half of his lean thighs.

"Hey," said Harry. "Fancy meeting you here."

Ron smiled and held out his hand to help Harry to his feet. This proved to be a tragic mistake, for Harry's towel clung to the rough wood floorboards. Noticing Harry's imminent nakedness, Ron released Harry's hand; thus Harry fell on his arse, squealed like a pig, and of course, the towel fell off anyway.

"What the—?" Harry gasped, and pulled his towel back around his semi-hard cock. It was a good few inches, not that Ron was measuring.

"Sorry. I saw the towel catch on the wood, I mean the floorboards not… anyway I was trying to save your modesty."

"Oh." Harry looked quite confused as he awkwardly got to his feet. Ron tried to look away from his crotch, but suddenly realised he was staring at Harry's nipples. They were erect and a lovely shade of brown.

Ron abruptly turned and fled.

"So I take it you're still in the game," Harry called after him.

"I'm the Hogwarts Headmaster!"

In that moment, Ron changed his mind. He wanted to win. He needed to win. If for nothing else than to prove that he had self-control when it came to Harry. If he didn't, just how long could he last living together? Ron really didn't want to lose Harry as a flat-mate and never his friendship.

He set about constructing the perfect anti-erection device ever made. It took him a few hours, but before he went to bed he had the Willy-Chiller up and running. It was a box that was shaped to sit snuggly over his hips and groin. The filler was a small goose-down pillow that he had shrunk to fit and charmed to stay cold for at least six hours. Maybe he'd sell the idea to George when the contest was over.

 

 **Wednesday 7:25 PM (Day 33)**

Harry stopped Ron before he could leave the kitchen and take yet another cold shower.

"Hey, it's your turn to do the dishes."

"Hermione's," Ron said.

"But she didn't come home for dinner, so it's your turn."

"I'll do them later."

"No, you won't. You'll leave them in the sink all night and all the little bits of food will be stuck to them and stinking up the kitchen when I try to make my breakfast."

"What are you, my Mum?"

"You're an utter pig. I shouldn't have to live like this."

"Fine. I'll do the sodding dishes."

Harry stormed off.

As Ron did the dishes, he knew one of them would have to cave soon. They were in a one-on-one race to the Golden Snitch, and it was right in front of both of them. Someone was going to catch it, and the other was going to crash his broom into the ground.

The last week had been incredibly painful, and it wasn't just the self-denial. The whole situation was made worse by the fact that he and Harry had been spending so much time together. Ron had stopped going out after work and on weekends to avoid some fit bloke giving him meet-me-in-the-loo eyes. He supposed Harry was doing the same, except instead he was avoiding love-to-shag-the-Chosen-One witches.

Neville was almost always at Susan's, and Hermione had worked late almost every night. Both were probably trying to avoid Ron and Harry's short tempers. This resulted in Ron and Harry becoming even more isolated with only each other to annoy and lash out at.

Maybe after this was all over, Harry would get a girlfriend and Ron could get on with his life.

Ron finished the dishes and headed up to Harry's room. The door was open. Harry was sitting on his bed, flipping through the latest issue of _Quidditch Monthly_.

"Hey," Ron said cautiously staying in the doorway.

"Hey."

"Look, I'm sorry. I should do the dishes when it's my turn."

Harry looked up from his magazine. "Sorry, I snapped. It's this bloody contest."

"I know," Ron agreed, and took a step closer. "Look, I feel bad. You've been stuck inside with me, when you could be out meeting girls, getting laid."

"Like I usually do?"

Ron wasn't too sure if Harry was being sarcastic or not. "I didn't mean…"

"It's fine." Harry turned his attention back to his magazine.

"Harry…" Ron waited a minute, but when Harry didn't look up, he left without saying another word.

 

 **Saturday 8:34 PM (Day 36)**

Ron knew that they had to get out of the house. So it was either go to the Puddlemere United versus Falmouth Falcons match or kill each other. Ron chose the former. They spent the day watching what turned out to be one of the best matches of the season – an eight hour marathon that finally ended when a Falcon's Beater fell off his broom and onto the United Seeker. They both plummeted 50 feet to the ground, and in the chaos, the Falcon's Seeker caught the Snitch.

Harry and Ron had dinner and drinks with a group of Falcons fans who had been seated next to them during the game. Harry and Ron managed not to fight the whole day, and genuinely enjoyed each other's company for the first time in weeks.

Amazingly, they didn't Splinch themselves when they Apparated home, despite being mildly drunk.

"Ouch!" Ron yelled as Harry tripped over his foot.

"Sorry. It's dark in here."

" _Lumos!_ "

The house was cold and empty. Harry immediately cast _Incendio_ to fire up the hearth, while Ron lit the candelabras.

"Where is everyone?" Ron wondered.

"Ah. Here we go." Harry handed him a note that had been left for them on the mantle.

"Neville's at Susan's and Hermione took a Portkey to Paris for a few days. She's meeting up with Viktor after the Bulgaria-France preliminary."

"Just us, again." Harry fidgeted, and it made Ron's trousers feel a size too small. The last few days almost anything had that effect, even the zucchinis that Mum had sent over from her new greenhouse, but Harry affected him doubly.

"So, want another beer? Firewhiskey?"

"Yeah, a Firewhiskey sounds about right."

They went to the kitchen and dug the Ogdens out of the cupboard.

"To a good day!" said Harry.

"To being masters of our wands!"

Harry looked at him strangely for a moment, then held up his glass and downed the shot.

"Oh, that burns," said Ron. "Another?"

"One more."

It ended up being two more before they called it quits and headed up to bed.

Soon Ron heard the sound of water running, which had to be Harry taking a cold shower. Ron stripped off his clothes, stretched out on top of his bed, and put his Willy-Chiller in place. It worked best if he was completely naked. He'd wake up cold, but at least he'd have slept. He closed his eyes and let the alcohol and need for sleep overtake him.

"What is _that?_ "

Slowly, Ron opened his eyes and squinted. When the room, lit by only one bedside candle, came into focus, Ron saw Harry, dripping wet, wearing nothing but that evil towel.

"I was asleep," Ron murmured, and closed his eyes.

"You're cheating!"

"Am not." Ron opened his eyes again. Harry was wet and furious. The Willy Chiller was to face its toughest challenge.

"Then what is that contraption?"

"It's my Willy Chiller."

Harry's eyes looked like they might pop out of their sockets. "We agreed no magic."

"No, we said no spells on our anatomy or to control our urges. The box contains a pillow that is merely charmed to remain cold."

"That's a spell."

"On the pillow. It's no different from those blue Muggle ice blocks that appeared two weeks ago. Don't think I didn't notice."

"They're not charmed."

"Charmed or frozen in the ice box, what's the difference?"

Harry scrunched his face and rubbed his scar. He only did that when he was tired or confused. He looked to be both.

"There's no magic directed at your… um…"

"None whatsoever."

Harry stepped toward the bed. "Let me see."

"No!"

"I want to check that you're not cheating."

"No!"

"Why not?"

From the sudden heat, Ron knew his face must be redder than a Howler. "I'm starkers under here."

"Aren't you cold?"

"That's the idea."

"Oh. Well, it's not like I've never seen you before." Harry took another step and his hand hovered over the Willy Chiller.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Don't be a baby."

"I'm not a baby."

"Well then you must be hiding something in there."

In one swift motion, Harry lifted the box before Ron could stop him. _Fucking Seeker reflexes._ The only thing Ron had been hiding was one Erumpent-sized erection.

"Oh," whispered Harry.

Mortified, Ron turned his head away. There was no possible way he could look Harry in the eye.

"It doesn't look like it's working very well," Harry said softly.

"It was until you came in with your wet hair and tiny towel."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"I…"

"Yes, you can go now," Ron said far more sharply than he meant to.

"You…"

"Look, I'm sorr—" Ron turned his head and expected Harry to look scared, or embarrassed, or be backing away, only he wasn't. Harry was staring at Ron's cock and his hand hovered a mere inch above it. Harry caught Ron's stare and abruptly pulled his hand away.

"Harry?"

"I… I thought you didn't want me."

"What?" That was the most asinine thing Ron had ever heard in his life.

"When you came out, I… I thought you might have… and then you never said anything… and… I dunno. I assumed you only liked me as a friend."

"I thought… I thought you were straight."

"So did I, that was until you came out. I started having these… feelings."

"That was two years ago."

"Don't I bloody well know it!"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to make a total prat of myself. _Ron's gay, he must want me._ Why would anyone want—"

"Harry " Ron sat up slowly. He took a deep breath, and then said the words he thought he'd never say out loud. "I'm in love with you. How could I not be in love with you?"

"You are?"

"For two years I've been trying not to let it get in the way of our friendship. You’re my best mate."

Harry rubbed his eyes and then ran both hands through his untamable mop of hair. "I can't believe…"

"Hermione would say that we're not exactly good at communicating our feelings."

"Ron?"

"Yeah?" he asked, looking into Harry's eyes.

Harry dropped his towel to the floor. The action spoke more than any silly talk about feelings and how he bollixed everything up because he had the emotional range of a teaspoon. _Bugger the teaspoon!_ With Harry, Ron could hold the entire Hogwarts lake, giant squid and all. Harry's cock looked just as hard and desperate as Ron's. Well, Ron's erection had flagged slightly during the conversation, but upon seeing Harry naked, it was now back to its former engorged state.

"Can we end this stupid contest?" asked Harry, sitting on the edge of Ron's bed.

Ron nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

With extreme awkwardness, Harry arranged himself on his side facing Ron, who turned to face him and give him some room. They weren't quite touching, and it was both physically and emotionally painful. Ron never wanted anything so much.

"Will you kiss me?" asked Harry.

Ron's answer was to wrap his arm around Harry, pull their bodies together, and kiss him soundly on the mouth. Harry opened to Ron and moaned into the kiss.

Quite shyly, Harry ran trembling fingertips over Ron's ribs and down to his waist.

Something occurred to Ron. "Harry?"

"Hmm," Harry murmured, his eyes heavily lidded. His breathing was laboured and strained.

"Have you? Have you ever done this?"

Harry shook his head ever so slightly.

"With a woman?"

Harry bit his bottom lip and nodded. Ron didn't want to think about who those women might have been.

"It's been a long time, though," Harry added.

"How long?"

"Over a year."

"Doesn't matter," Ron whispered, and then kissed Harry again. Ron pressed his hips slightly forward, causing his prick to rub against Harry's.

Harry moaned and pressed back.

While he kept the kiss going, Ron gently wrapped his hand around Harry's cock.

"Oh. Oh." Harry gripped Ron's arm, pushed up into his hand, and came with sharp frantic gasps.

Ron kissed his neck and eased him through his orgasm.

Harry took several long deep breaths. His body trembled. Ron held him tight.

"That was embarrassing."

"Not at all. It's been four weeks since you've had a wank. Believe me, I won't last much longer." Ron let go of Harry's softening cock and took his own cock in hand. He began to stroke slowly using Harry's come as lubrication.

"Can I watch?"

"Fuck, yeah."

Ron like the way Harry chewed his lip as he stared at his cock. He tried to take it slow, but he was fit to burst.

"Oh, I've missed this," Ron moaned as he stroked his thumb over the head. He gave a few firm tugs, then suddenly felt Harry's hand over his.

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "That's good. So good. Touch me."

Ron released his grip and allowed Harry to take over. He was hesitant at first, but gained confidence and forcefulness with each stroke.

"Yeah, like that," Ron encouraged him. A few more firm strokes and Ron came, cursing, and shooting thick pearly strands over Harry's fist. "Fuck. Fuck. So good."

"That was… intense."

"No kidding. Fuck, Harry. We're going to have to do that again."

"We're going to have to do that a lot."

Ron leaned forward and dragged his lips over Harry's in the barest caress. "I didn't think this was ever going to happen," he whispered over them.

"Me neither," Harry whispered back. "Um…"

"Already?"

"It's been a over a month."

"Ever had a blow job?"

"No," said Harry breathlessly.

"Let me?"

"Please."

 

 **Saturday 11:47 PM (Day 0)**

Ron and Harry slept soundly, thoroughly sated in Ron's bed. Ron spooned Harry from behind with their right hands loosely entwined.

 

 **Monday 7:19 AM (Day 2)**

"Good morning," Ron said cheerily as Hermione came into the kitchen for breakfast.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, and then looked over to Harry, who gave her a big toothy grin over his cereal spoon.

"I take it the contest is over?" she said.

Neville entered the kitchen with a big yawn. "S'there tea in there?" He gestured to the pot on the table.

Harry nodded and Summoned a teacup. "Sit down. I'll pour you a cuppa."

"So?" said Hermione. "Who won?"

"Tie," Harry and Ron answered at the same time and laughed at Hermione and Neville's perplexed stares.


	2. Bossy Bottom - DVD extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet: Bossy Bottom (Viktor/Hermione) DVD extra to "The Contest"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gift ficlet for vanseedee who requested a ficlet for her "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy walk into a bar..." winning joke. She said, "I'm madly in love with your Hermione from 'The Contest'. I'd love to see a moment between her and Victor." Here ya go. I wrote some HET. Careful, the world may be coming to an end. Special thanks to pir8fancier for looking this over.

"Yes, that's good. A little to the left. Higher. Up. There. There. Use your middle finger. Yes. Oh. Oh. Yes. Yes. Ngggh. Ngggh. "

Viktor lifted his head up from between Hermione's thighs. "Eez good?"

"Eez good," she parroted back. "Now, get up here and fuck me."

"Those silly boyz you live wit. They live wit you and no like women? Eez crazy, no?"

Viktor crawled his way over Hermione's body supporting himself on his massive arms. Hermione liked arms. She felt warm and safe when held in large strong arms. "Neville likes girls."

"I meant—"

"I know who you meant. Let's not talk about them. It kind of ruins the mood."

Viktor smiled and leaned over to kiss her. The skin around his mouth was moist and swollen from licking her pussy. Playfully, she bit down on his upper lip and he moaned into her mouth. He tasted and smelled of her as well.

With his hand he lined up the head of his cock at her entrance. He gave her a mischievous smile and Hermione grinned back, trying not to show how desperately she wanted him to get on with it. Her pelvic muscles clenched in anticipation, and she was so wet that his cock slid right in without any resistance, when he finally pushed inside.

Hermione wrapped her legs around Viktor's back and sighed.

"You like, yes?" he asked after several slow deep thrusts.

"Yes. Harder."

As Viktor put some muscle into it, Hermione couldn't help but try to remember when was the last time that she'd had received such a thorough fucking. It'd been far too long. She'd been working crazy hours and the agreeing to such a ridiculous contest was truly not one of her better ideas. She was undone by her own ego.

Viktor made losing more than worth it. In post-orgasmic satisfaction, Hermione rested her head atop Viktor's firm and considerably expansive chest. "When will you back in England?"

"Not for months, but…"

"What?"

"You could come visit when I travel, yes? France? Italy? Netherlands? They give me big hotel room, and team has Portkey."

"I think I might be able to free up a weekend."

"Stupeed, stupeed boyz."

"That they are."

"They are together, yes?"

"No. I mean. Yes. They just don't know it yet."

"Their loss. My gain. They told me to show you good time. I didn't need to be told," Viktor added with a small smile and a kiss to Hermione's temple.

"I know."

"You no mind?"

"No," she replied and lazily circled her index finger around Viktor's nipple. "They may be stupid, but they had a great idea. I don't care about losing the bet."

"Bet?"

"I'll tell you another time. You ready for more?"

"Viktor Krum is always ready."

"I like that about you." Hermione sat up and straddled Viktor's chest.

"You like on top?" Viktor asked.

"Absolutely."

Easing backward, Hermione positioned herself above Viktor's thick cock. She gripped his prick steady with one hand, and then sank down slowly. Bliss. Her boys may be stupid, but they had their moments of brilliance.


End file.
